


Keeper

by misbehavin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bees, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavin/pseuds/misbehavin
Summary: The bees become a problem.





	Keeper

The bees become a problem.

Sam likes them just fine, actually. He isn’t as passionate about them as Castiel but he is the kind of person who likes them enough to ignore the probability of a fatal sting and set up a hive as a gift. His superficial knowledge of beekeeping doesn’t get him discouraged. Sam is resourceful; he looks up the information, digs in deep to reduce the chances of screwing things up to a minimum, goes all the way when buying the supplies. He sets up the hive, and everything goes well. Better than. The Bunker’s rooftop is immense, wide enough to fit Sam’s herbs and vegetable garden and now Cas’ bees. It’s enveloped in magic, though Castiel still insists on chanting a quiet spell as soon as he steps in, something about harmony. He hugs Sam tight afterwards, gets close to convincing him to sleep right there on the roof. They’ve done it before, spent all kinds of night here. And, again, Sam likes bees just fine. But he’ll have to work up to being okay with sharing a bed with them.

He likes to joke bees are Cas’ spirit animal. It’s a nice thought, despite his aversion to insects: Castiel as an imposing shapeless form, swarms in the place of his organs, angel as a mirror and amber as the only color they reflect. Yeah. Not as weird as Sam would imagine it to be if he were someone else. It’s nice.

Then he realizes it’s October and it’s a countdown to his least favorite time of the year and _the bees become a problem_.

 

Castiel won’t take off his beekeeper clothes, for starters. Sam doesn’t think it’s a fitting costume. They’re going Trick-or-Treating, because strange shit is bound to happen tonight and they’re always on the lookout for seasonal occurrences and, at the same time, Cas wants candy. Sam doesn’t think he even likes sweets that much, but he doesn’t have the heart to deny Cas anything, so here they are.

Sam only suggests him to take the clothes off once. Castiel responds, _no thank you_ , because Castiel can do whatever he damn well pleases. Some part of him must think there’s something funny about Sam’s concern of his well-being. He isn’t human, even at times when he comes close to resembling, living like one. He won’t break a sweat, won’t be bothered by anything anyone else would, the feeling of the fabric against his skin or outsider’s disapproving looks. Sam understands, as Sam always does, but he still has a hard time processing Cas’ disdain to certain stuff as anything other than consistently hot. And don’t get him wrong. Castiel cares a lot about a great deal of things, and that is, without a doubt, something Sam loves and admires in him. He is, however, an angel, first and foremost. The only one who could tell him what to do is maybe God himself. Sam is only capable when Cas is willing to be persuaded.

Right now, Sam wishes he could convince him to go back home.

He isn’t interested in having a Halloween-themed date, or whatever this is. He knows too many truths and horrors, can recall his childhood in vivid technicolor. And there’s also the fact that he’ll be pretty unstable in a couple of days because November never has been an easy month and it’ll take a long time for that to change and adjust now that his mother is here, back from the dead. Sam really doesn’t need Halloween. Every aspect of his life, start to finish, is bizarre enough.

But Castiel wants to go Trick-or-Treating, and this is for him. And it’s no sacrifice, mind you. Sam is overly committed to Castiel’s happiness.

 

They meet up with a group of people, a mix of civilian families of all types. Sam has no idea when or how Cas made any plans with them. Winchesters don’t often come into direct contact with civilians outside of cases; their life is so backwards it might as well happen entirely in another plane. Sam doesn’t feel envy, not exactly, not anymore. He just thinks a part of him will never stop longing for their naivety. He is too old a soul, Cas had said once. And, well, he wasn’t wrong.

Everyone is dressed up, excited in the most transparent way. The children are wearing varied costumes, the adults exaggerated make-up. They seem eager to an adventure, desperate for the unexpected, even if they know, deep down, that they won’t find it.

Sam shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s stupid, yet he can’t help the discomfort. Cas is in his beekeeper overalls right beside him and Sam’s still the odd man out.

“So, lumberjack?” someone named Cynthia says. She’s in a burgundy suit, her curly hair up à la Janelle Monáe.

“Actually,” Sam replies. “I’m his bodyguard in disguise.”

It’s not a total lie, but Castiel frowns like it’s the most offensive thing Sam’s ever said in his presence.

They’re gonna split up the groups, three adults looking after each horde of kids. The children are too young to do this alone, even if some of them might disagree.

“You’re very tall,” Cynthia’s daughter, Mel, says. She’s got wings that look too heavy for her small frame and her face is covered in glitter. Before Sam can say anything, she uncrosses her arms and demands, “make me fly!”

Sam laughs, surprised. He picks Mel up, balances her on his shoulders. He wasn’t particularly thrilled, but... Hey, maybe there’s a chance tonight won’t suck.

Castiel rearranges his hat and his grin says _I told you so_. He’s infuriating and Sam keeps wanting to die a thousand deaths or live a thousand lives for him.

 

People mistake he and Castiel as parents, an honest mistake, really, but it hurts like a toothache. Sam ignores it in favor of helping Mel descend from his shoulders and let the other kids get a turn. The pain on the back of his neck is worth a dozen giggles and soothes away some of his bad mood.

Cynthia is friendly, open-hearted. She mentions her partner and her other kid Trick-or-Treating on the other side of town at least twice, and invites them over for drinks like they’re old acquaintances. It calms down Sam’s nerves a bit more, the prospect of having new friends lighting a hope in him.

At the end of the evening, the kids can’t carry the amount of candy they’ve got. They trade them with each other and give some to Castiel so they can bring home their stacks by themselves.

It’s a peaceful, uneventful night, but since when luck is a Winchester forte?

 

 

Castiel is stuffing his face with chocolate as they walk back to the Bunker, rating them on a scale from disgusting to tolerable to good, and giving to Sam the ones he claims to have interesting flavors.

Sam steals his hat with that veil, barely stops himself from telling Cas how ridiculous it is as he puts it on his own head.

“I can’t believe you wore this thing,” he says.

“Of course I did,” Castiel says, pocketing another wrapper. He barely hides a wince and Sam can tell it’s almost like Cas can feel the sugar rush in every one of his cells. “You wouldn’t want to go shopping for costumes.”

“What would I even dress up as?”

Castiel looks at him sideways. “I can think of a few things.”

It’s the perfect opportunity to kiss him. They’re close to home in a deserted road and Cas will taste sugary.

Except Sam’s advance is cut short by a shrieking sound. He steps in front of Cas, stays still. So much for having a Halloween night that doesn’t suck.

There’s a rustling and a shadow of a movement in between the trees. Instead of a humanoid shape, what lurks about it’s the opposite of what a light-ray would be, an endless dark spreading throughout everything, bending nature under its body.

Castiel’s blade shines bright in the moonlight as he pulls it from God-knows-where, and that’s when Sam’s comment about being his bodyguard seems to start to backfire.

A low buzz snaps into a thunderous fuss and at once envelops Sam. He realizes soon what it is that surrounds him and lets down the veil of the hat to protect his eyes.

Bees.

Goddamn _bees_.

They’re all around him, not touching. Trying to run away is useless because they follow, acting like a shield.

“CAS!” Sam yells.

You know, he likes bees. He does. He knows they’re important. He appreciates the pollinating they do and how relevant it is for his own well-being and everyone else’s. But he did not sign up for this.

Castiel is focused on the thing in the woods, a monster shade. He throws his blade at its direction, a clean cut. Both his palms glow, then the rest of him, like he’s reaching with his true self, the entirety of him as a weapon. Do angels with no vessel smite things in their path by simply being there? That would mean Castiel is not a swarm bathed in honey as Sam sometimes hopes, just a long stretch of burning light. Holy is not safe and all.

Sam shuts his eyes closed and ends up tripping, falling backwards to the ground. The bees guard him as the temperature of the air increases along with a number of bright explosions.

He kicks the air and curses, calls for Castiel one more time. His voice gets lost among the whirl of the wind announcing an oncoming storm.

In comparison to the usual time it takes to hunt something down, everything is over quickly.

Not that Sam stays to see how.

 

 

He finds himself in his room, slightly dizzy. He sits at the edge of the bed, shakes out a whole body shudder. The bees are gone.

Less than two minutes later, Castiel shows up, down to his striped underwear — another one of Sam’s presents he has no one to blame for but himself.

“Thank you for today,” Castiel says, taking the hat off Sam’s head in order to kiss the corner of his mouth. Whatever it was in the woods, it has been taken care of, otherwise Cas wouldn’t be this calm.

“No problem. It was actually nice for a moment there,” Sam says, sincere. He clears his throat, “So, uh, did you do something to the bees?” he asks. Urgent matters. “Because you’ve had them for, what, less than a week? And if you did something, that’s the sort of information you shouldn’t keep from me, you know.”

There had been an incident once, with his herbs and vegetable garden, because magic has its own set of rules, as nature does, and sometimes one fucks up and forgets that. Sam needs to be aware of other potential incidents, especially if they involve the goddamn _bees_.

Castiel tears another Twix open and chews as if nothing happened.

“No,” he says.

Sam runs a hand through his hair, breathes in deep. “I’m serious. Did you do something to them?”

Cas doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Then what the hell was that back there?”

Castiel has the nerve to look Sam straight in the eye and say, with conviction, “They sense royalty.”

Sam stares. “You’re hilarious.”

“They must be fond of you,” Cas argues, putting on pajama bottoms the human way— that is, without angelical interference and the snap of his fingers. He shrugs, “Maybe they know what you are to me and feel instinctively protective.”

Sam relaxes. A little. “That’s not how bees work.”

“And how would you know?” Castiel retorts, lips quirking, defiant. His hand is sticky when Sam takes it to pull him closer.

“Pretty sure it’s not the same if they’re magical bees or something.”

“Again, how would you know?”

Sam sighs. There’s an abundant amount of stubbornness in this relationship, so he knows what's gonna happen. They’re gonna talk about it all night through and come to some sort of understanding. He’ll have to somehow deal with it. Angel slash boyfriend slash bodyguard and his protective army of bees.

Ugh. Okay. He should’ve just given Cas a black cat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly, I don't know anything about anything, so you'll have to excuse the lack of actual beekeeping. Also, this came up because of something said on tumblr about Sam finding Cas attractive in beekeeper clothes, though here he's pretending he doesn't.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> ETA: The bees sensing royalty is a reference to Jupiter Ascending, btw.


End file.
